


More than a Tease

by Lady Divine (fhartz91)



Series: Kurtoberfest 2015 [40]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Anxiety, College, Halloween, M/M, mention of Blaine, mention of sexual situations, not entirely Blaine friendly but no Blaine bashing, not particularly Quinn or Rachel friendly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-11
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-10-17 18:23:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10599594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhartz91/pseuds/Lady%20Divine
Summary: When Quinn takes Kurt to a theme Halloween party, he gets the chance to "face his fear". Since he can't think of one, he writes that his fear is spending an evening alone with Sebastian Smythe. It's a safe thing to say. No one has seen Sebastian since graduation, so there's no fear for Kurt to face.Kurt has no clue that they'd actually be able to find him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kurtoberfest prompt 'nightmare'.

“Soooo, where are we going?” Kurt asks, speed-walking beside Quinn as she leads him past a handful of frat parties already in progress. It’s only going on nine o’clock in the evening, but a bunch of these parties look like they’ve gotten out of hand. Kurt and Quinn have walked by houses with one or more people hanging out of windows, one where a young man was attempting to ski off the roof, and another where a handful of drunk sorority sisters were targeting passersby with shaving cream filled balloons. Seeing as Kurt has personal experience with a variation of _one_ of those – an experience that still haunts him - the further down the line they go, the more anxious he becomes.

“You’ll see,” she says with a self-satisfied quirk to her prim lips. She’s been keeping her answers short and sweet, not giving away a thing.

And it’s peeving Kurt off big time.

When Kurt had decided to accept Quinn’s invitation for a visit to Yale, Halloween weekend was the only time he could get off work. And that was fine. Aside from the prospect of attending the annual costume contest at _Callbacks_ , then getting pelted by eggs on the way home, he had nothing exciting planned. Actually, considering everything that had been going on in his life lately, he’d hoped the change of pace would do him good. He knew that Quinn lived on campus, and that campus life was an alternate universe compared to what he had going for him right now – sharing a loft in Bushwick with Rachel and commuting daily to NYADA – but he definitely had a different idea of what they would be doing. As far as he knew, the students at Yale were the “cream of the crop”. The way his high school guidance counselor talked about Yale, Kurt got the impression that the school teemed with the blue blooded teenagers of America. He figured they’d spend the night handing out candy to the tiny hobgoblins of the New England elite, then maybe go to some upscale party, probably masquerade in nature, where lavish costumes a la the movie _Dangerous Liaisons_ were required.

He didn’t think that what they’d actually be doing was crashing a kegger.

“Well, you didn’t have us get dressed in costume,” Kurt points out, his comment laced with disappointment, “so … oh _please_ tell me we’re not going to one of those Christian redemption house things! Where they try to scare you straight with re-enactments of abortions and drug overdoses!”

“No, it’s nothing like that,” she says, having the nerve to laugh. “Who do you think I am?”

“But is it a _haunted_ house?” Kurt asks, because he isn’t too keen on those either. He never understood the appeal of going somewhere just to get scared out of your wits. Plus, a lot of the more adult aimed haunted houses tend to be “interactive”. He swears, if someone dressed as a ghoul or a zombie gropes him in the dark, he’s reaching for his pepper spray. He doesn’t care what kind of trouble he gets into. But more worrying than that, he doesn’t want to risk getting fake blood on his jeans. That stuff never comes out.

“It’s going to be scary,” Quinn reveals, “just on a different scale.”

“Oh, God,” Kurt groans. “We’re going to do math homework. Or physics. That’s how you smart kids get your kicks, isn’t it? There’s a reason why I didn’t apply to Yale, Quinn!”

“Come along, Kurt.” She grabs his arm and pulls him along, and ow! How did he not realize before now how remarkably strong she is for her stature? “Keep moving. You’re going to enjoy yourself, I promise. And besides, it’s for _charity_.”

She sings that last part like it’s some huge selling point, but now that Kurt’s out of high school and no longer needs to find ways to pad his college application, he’s become a little less charitable, especially when he needs to pay rent and feed himself on a waiter’s salary.

They make their way to the end of the block, to a house that isn’t _as_ gorily decorated as the others, and where the music is being blasted at a surprisingly reasonable level. There’s no one hanging out of the windows, no couples going at it on the front lawn, no one chucking stuff at them from off the roof.

Kurt approves.

 _Well, this seems okay,_ Kurt says to himself, thinking that maybe he should have put more trust in Quinn. This party does look to be more his speed.

“Hey, Peg!” Quinn waves at the smiling strawberry blonde standing by the open front door, greeting guests as they enter.

“Hey, Quinn!” The girl’s green eyes light up when she sees them. “I’m _so_ glad you could make it! Who’s your friend?”

“This” - Quinn shoves Kurt forward one-handed. _When did she switch from cheerleading to wrestling?_ \- “is Kurt Hummel. He’s a friend of mine from Lima.”

“Hey.” Kurt waves uncomfortable, almost nose to nose with the girl at the door when Quinn pushes him ahead.

“Hey, Kurt.” Peg giggles, bouncing on her feet. She can’t seem to stand still for longer than three seconds at a time. She’s either really excited about the party, Kurt decides, or she’s dipped into the bowl of candy by her side one too many times.

“Why don’t you tell us what’s going on here tonight?” Quinn prompts Peg to give them a “spiel”, and Kurt gets the vague suspicion that he’s been set-up. From a quick glimpse inside, Kurt doesn’t see anyone dressed as ghouls or zombies. It doesn’t even look like anyone’s getting drunk, so that only leaves one other possibility.

They _are_ doing something educational! Quinn! You _fiend_!

“Okay!” Peg claps her hands together and plants herself on her heels, and Kurt figures out the reason for her undying perkiness.

She’s a _cheerleader_.

“Well, the theme of tonight’s party is _Face Your Fears_.” Peg introduces it in a spooky voice and using spirit fingers, as if _that’s_ going to terrify him. This girl is five foot nothing and probably 100 pounds soaking wet. “So, we’re inviting our guests to face their fears.” She thrusts specially printed name tags their way. They’re white with a bloody outline dripping in to the writing space. On the top, printed in black letters (Comic Sans, Kurt notices, and quietly judges), are the words, “My nightmare is …”

“We ask that people keep them small, you know,” Peg says. “Things you can work on locally, and tonight, if possible. Though if you’re afraid of bugs, we have a gentleman here all the way from the Museum of Natural History who’s offered to take four lucky students to the Entomology department to try and work on that. And if you’re afraid of heights, we’re having a drawing later to win a bungee jump adventure for two hosted by Luxergy.”

“Wow.” Kurt’s moderately impressed. “That’s kind of awesome. But, I’m not afraid of bugs. Or heights.”

Her left shoulder pops up in a shrug. “I’m sure you can come up with something.”

“Come on.” Quinn elbows Kurt in the side. “You came all this way. Give it a go. Write something down.”

“Yeah, yeah, alright.” Kurt bats her arm away. “Keep your angular elbows to yourself.”

Kurt looks at the bloody paper, the space inside blank as his mind has gone. He has no idea what to write. He’s only had a handful of fears. A lot of the ones he lived with growing up, he’s conquered – not having the courage to be himself, not having the strength to stand up to bullies, not getting into the college of his choice, not being able to make it on his own.

But his real fears aren’t things he can work on _here_ , at a frat party. They’re things he may never be able to overcome.

That he could have done something to keep his mom from dying, even though he can’t imagine how.

That he’ll never make it on Broadway, no matter how hard he tries.

That Santana was right and Blaine really did move on with Dave because he was tired of him.

Everything else isn’t exactly a fear, per se. Not of nightmare proportions. More like a series of mild apprehensions, daunting though they are. But he isn’t going to open up about them, not at a Halloween party, so he puts down the first stupid thing that pops into his head. Under the heading, “My nightmare is …” Kurt writes, “spending an evening alone with Sebastian Smythe.”

 _Yeah_ , Kurt thinks, _that works_. Not only is it kind of true (he had once or twice wondered what might happen if the two of them ever found themselves at The Lima Bean alone together, or in the bathroom at Scandals), but good luck tracking _him_ down. Last Kurt heard, after Sebastian graduated from Dalton, an hour later, he hopped on the first plane to Paris.

Goodbye, good riddance.

Kurt peels his name tag off its backing and carefully places it on his shirt. He watches Quinn deliberate over her own name tag, ready to poke fun at her for taking too long, when a voice in the crowd calls out, “Quinny! Hey! Quinny!”

“ _Quinny_?” Kurt jeers, but Quinn doesn’t seem to mind the nickname. Kurt watches her pensive expression completely transform. She bites her lower lip, her cheeks pink, and a grin the size of the Holland Tunnel spreads across her face, and Kurt begins to suspect why they’re _really_ here.

Charity, his ass!

“Hey, Quinny!” The man bounds out from the mass of people - literally jumps out of the crowd - landing so close to Kurt, he has to take a step back so as not to get tackled to the ground.

“Hey, Glenn,” Quinn says with a bat of her eyes, putting the man, panting like a puppy, out of his misery. “What’s up?”

“Not much. I’m glad you could make it. I was afraid you weren’t going to show.”

“Well, we had a few other things to do, but we managed to find time to fit you guys in.”

 _A few other things?_ Kurt scoffs silently. They’d been sitting in her room watching old show choir videos before they decided to head out, and then came straight here!

“So, have you guys had a chance to finish your name tags?”

“I haven’t,” Quinn says. “But Kurt has.”

“Oh, yeah?” Glenn’s blue eyes zero in on Kurt, glaring for a second, but he seems to determine that Kurt is no threat to him getting with Quinn, and he smiles. “Let me see!”

Glenn reaches for Kurt. Kurt nearly slaps Glenn when he grabs his shirt to take a look at his tag.

“My nightmare is spending an evening alone with Sebastian Smythe.” Glenn chuckles, but his brow wrinkles. “Wait a minute?” Kurt sees Glenn mouth the sentence, trying to put something together. “Aren’t you guys from Ohio?”

“Yeah …” Kurt looks at Quinn, who looks back at him with a confused look on her face.

“Oh, ho!” Glenn crows. “You can’t mean … yo!” Glenn turns to the crowd, cupping a hand to the side of his mouth to help his voice carry. “Seb! Sebastian Smythe! Come here, man!”

“What!?” Kurt’s heart slams to a stop. He feels his insides frost over like the Auglaize River in the dead of winter. “Wait, wait, wait ...” Kurt grabs Glenn by the arm. “No. You don’t mean … Sebastian Smythe goes to _Yale_?”

“Duh. He’s one of my best bros.” Glenn smiles like a jackal, the way any close friend of Sebastian’s would by default.

Kurt releases Glenn’s arm as if it had suddenly burst into flames and turns on his friend.

“Lucy Quinn Fabray!” Kurt growls. “You did not tell me that Sebastian Smythe attends Yale!”

“I didn’t know!” She laughs nervously. “It’s a big school. _You_ could have been going here and I probably wouldn’t have known unless you outright told me.”

“What is it, Glenn?” a familiar voice - a voice Kurt had never planned on hearing again - calls above the crowd. As it comes closer, Kurt considers ducking into the group of men playing beer pong to the left of them, but he doesn’t commit to that decision quick enough. A pair of green eyes hones in on him. The smile that follows is sly, but surprisingly less predatory than Glenn’s. “Hey! Princess Hummel!” When Kurt finally sees Sebastian’s face, he looks the same as the Sebastian that Kurt remembers, minus the mile-high hair and the overly confident, conniving grin. This Sebastian has a semi-shaved head, and a more mellow demeanor. Whether it’s because he’s slightly tipsy or just slightly changed, Kurt doesn’t know. “You go here?”

“No,” Kurt replies sharply. He decides to stick to one word answers. It seems safer that way.

“Oh, yeah. That’s right. You’re going to that performing arts school. Uh …” Sebastian snaps his fingers, trying to remember the name.

“NYADA,” Kurt supplies when Sebastian’s absently snapping fingers creep closer to his face.

“That’s right. _NYADA_.” He points, signifying the end of his guessing with his fingernail dangerously close to Kurt’s nose. Sebastian looks around. He peeks over Kurt’s shoulder, then looks questioningly at Quinn. He scrunches his nose. “Aren’t you light about a buck sixty?”

“What?” Kurt glances down his body and puts a hand to his belly, assuming Sebastian is commenting on Kurt finally shedding his baby fat. It would be like Sebastian to pinpoint one of Kurt’s insecurities and find the need to remark about it.

“I think he’s talking about Blaine,” Quinn says helpfully.

“Oh,” Kurt says flatly, relieved, but then immediately offended again. Same diff. And of course Sebastian would be looking for Blaine. Blaine was a large part of Sebastian’s reason for loathing Kurt. Kurt wasn’t good enough for Blaine according to Sebastian, but Sebastian thought he _was_. “No. We’re not together anymore. I broke up with him.” Kurt adds that last part mainly so that Sebastian doesn’t get the idea that Blaine did the dumping, thus adding credibility to Sebastian’s previously held belief.

Sebastian makes an unexpectedly impressed face. “Good for you.” He punches Kurt lightly on the shoulder as if they’re friends. “I know that I kind of had the hots for him back in high school, but he really was kind of a one-trick pony. I always thought you could do so much better.”

Kurt’s jaw drops unceremoniously to his knees, but before Kurt has the chance to ask what Sebastian means by that, if he’s trying to be nice for once or if this is some new form of torment, Glenn cuts in.

“Hey, Smythe. Check out his name tag. Apparently his biggest fear is spending an evening alone with you.”

Kurt’s eyes bug out of his skull. He raises a hand to cover the tag. He had forgotten for a split second that he’d been wearing the damn thing. That the whole reason he was having this conversation with Sebastian was because of it. Jesus Christ! Couldn’t Kurt have thought up something else? Like Scottish fold kittens? Or cheesecake? If they were going to assault him with something they thought he was afraid of, he should have had the sense to pick something that would have worked in his favor.

“Is that so?” Sebastian coos at Kurt as if he’s fluffy and adorable, like the Scottish fold kitten Kurt should have said he’s afraid of. “Who knew I’d have such a lasting affect?” His eyes sparkle, too reminiscent of the way they did back in high school when he’d come up with some devious plan to manipulate the New Directions into doing whatever he wanted. But instead of getting angry at Sebastian the way Sebastian deserved, Kurt just wanted to get the hell out of there.

“It’s---it’s not that,” Kurt stammers while he considers burrowing into the floor beneath him. With the help of adrenaline, he’s pretty sure he can make it through the wood boards using brute hand strength. It’s the concrete foundation of the house that might prove a bit tricky. “It’s just …”

“So, Sebastian. You gonna help this poor guy out?” Glenn continues the conversation without the go ahead from Kurt, as if he’s on some sort of mission to get Kurt and Sebastian together.

“No!” Kurt yells before Sebastian can answer. “I don’t want to spend the night with _him_!”

Glenn shoots a look at Sebastian as if Kurt’s reaction just proved the existence of Kurt’s own made-up fear. Kurt wishes Quinn _had_ taken them to a regular old haunted house. Being groped by zombies sounds much more fun than what’s going on presently. He turns pleading eyes on her, hoping for help, but he should have already guessed that he’d have no such luck.

“Come on, Kurt,” she prods with another elbow to his side. But she’s not looking at him. She’s trading goo-goo eyes with Glenn. “It’s for charity.”

But Kurt’s not buying it, and he’s insulted at being used as a flirtation device. “And how does that work exactly? You didn’t tell me to bring my wallet.”

“We operate through a special program called Fraternities for Change,” Glenn explains. “We turn our social status on campus into a power for good. For every person who participates …”

“A dude bro gets their wings?” Kurt finishes, unmoved by their efforts, no matter how sincere, as long as the outcome equals _spend an evening alone with Sebastian Smythe_.

“No. Our parent organization and the alumni have pledged a donation to the charity of our choice,” Sebastian pitches in. “My parents have promised to match what we make here tonight. A lot of the guys’ folks have.”

“And which charity is that?” Quinn asks, as if she doesn’t already know. Kurt crosses his arms, preparing to remain immune. He doesn’t care what tree-hugging, whale protecting, children feeding, grass roots organization this frat is cutting a check to, Kurt refuses to be a part of it.

“The ACLU.”

Kurt opens his mouth to object _sarcastically_ , but he can’t since the ACLU is one of his all-time favorite organizations. If he was ever going to part with any of his own hard-earned cash in support of a cause, the ACLU would definitely be among his top 5, tied somewhere between the Born this Way Foundation and The Trevor Project.

_Damn it._

Kurt sighs. How did a promising Halloween-slash-vacation turn into such a disaster?

Kurt looks from Glenn’s eager face, to Quinn’s superior smile, then finally to Sebastian’s amused but unassuming grin. So, this is what between a rock and a hard place looks like? Kurt thought he’d visited there many times before, but obviously not.

Strange that Sebastian’s expression should be the most sympathetic of the three. He’s the only person staring at Kurt who doesn’t seem to have a hidden agenda.

“Fine,” Kurt concedes. “I’ll do it.”

“Excellent.” Glenn rubs his hands together like an old timey villain. “So, whaddya say, Seb? Ready to help this nice young man conquer his biggest fear?”

“Absolutely.” Sebastian slaps a hand down on Kurt’s shoulder, fixing him with a devilish look to match Glenn’s. “Kurt Hummel? For one whole night, _you_ are _mine_.”

“Great.” Kurt quickly makes a mental note to re-write his will … and scratch Quinn out of it. “I can’t wait.”

***

Kurt and Sebastian agree to meet at eight o’clock the following evening in Quinn’s room. She has a fairly large suite with a flat screen TV and its own kitchenette, enviable by dorm room standards. If NYADA offered rooms like this one at a price he could afford, Kurt would jump at it in a minute. Living in the loft, even with its massive amount of space, has begun to wear on him. It’s drafty in the winter, hot in the summer, the walls cry when it rains, and the neighborhood keeps him on edge. Besides, it would be nice to live closer to _Vogue_ and to school. He could participate more with the happenings on campus, delve deeper into the college experience, make a few more friends than he has now.

Then maybe he’d have something better to do during his free time than to nurse Rachel’s ego.

Kurt has the room to himself since Quinn doesn’t have a roommate this semester. But also, to smooth the process along, Glenn asked Quinn out on a date, and Quinn accepted, solely for the purpose of helping Kurt out, of course. Kurt was astounded by Quinn’s behavior at the party. She seemed more than happy to toss Kurt to the wolves in an effort to get a date with this man.

What in the heck happened to her between high school and college? Where had their strong, independent, ex-Cheerio who didn’t need a man in her life go?

Well, whatever. One thing’s for certain - see if Kurt ever accepts one of her invitations to Connecticut again.  

The entire day, Kurt considers calling off his and Sebastian’s “date” (if it can be termed that; Kurt is hard pressed to give their arrangement a name), which would be difficult considering he told Sebastian where he was staying, but they didn’t exchange phone numbers or any other contact information. Maybe Kurt should consider not opening the door when Sebastian shows up. Or Kurt could just not be there. He could go down to the dining hall, take a trip to the mall.

Pack up his things and hop on the first train he can find back to New York.

But then there’s the fact that this is a golden (well, more like gold- _plated_ ) opportunity to get to know the man who made it his pastime to declare open season on Kurt’s self-esteem for half a year. Kurt had always wanted to know - out of sheer, morbid curiosity – what made Sebastian tick. It didn’t strike Kurt until he went from being apprehensive about Sebastian’s visit to nearly panic stricken that he didn’t know anything about the man other than he’s an ass.

The student body at Dalton spread numerous rumors about Sebastian (far and wide enough that they’d reached Kurt’s ears all the way in Lima) and what he’d been doing in France, including tales of bizarre sexual fetishes, orgies, drinking, and drugs. Then there were the stories of the heartbroken boys he’d conned out of their virginities, one who they claim Sebastian had won in a game of cards - because that kind of thing happens in France.

Kurt had also heard several stories concerning Sebastian’s father, that the man was controlling to the point of being emotionally abusive; that, as a state’s attorney, he was a heartless bastard, grooming his son to be a heartless bastard just like him in the hopes that Sebastian would someday follow in his footsteps.

Kurt had also heard somewhere that Sebastian’s father didn’t care one way or another what his son did as long as he got good grades and didn’t get arrested.

Kurt didn’t know if any of that was true, but here was his chance to get the scoop right from the horse’s mouth.

But did Kurt _want_ it?

Sebastian had never given Kurt any indication that he was anything other than a self-centered asshole, and as Maya Angelou said, "When someone shows you who they are, believe them the first time." Kurt knows Sebastian apologized, and that everything should be water under the bridge. Blaine had accepted Sebastian’s apology with practically no convincing whatsoever, regardless of the incident with the rock salt Slushie and the damage to his eye, but it’s not that simple for Kurt.

Because Blaine wasn’t the one constantly being told he wasn’t good enough for his boyfriend.

Kurt was.

And Blaine wasn’t the one biting his tongue while his boyfriend texted someone who wasn’t only openly belligerent towards him, but vying for his boyfriend’s affection behind his back.

Kurt was.

Would Kurt be a hypocrite for not giving Sebastian a second chance? Kurt was willing to give Dave another chance, and Dave had physically abused him - tossed him into dumpsters, slammed him into lockers, threw Slushies in his face, threatened his life. Sebastian had never done anything along those lines to Kurt. Scheming and blackmailing shouldn’t be counted on the same level as physical assault. Technically, what Dave Karofsky did to Kurt was worse.

Still, there was something a bit more sinister to the way Sebastian bullied Kurt as opposed to the way Dave did. Dave went after Kurt daily, ruthlessly, and for years, but Kurt wasn’t Dave’s real issue. Kurt was an outlet.

Dave hated Kurt as an extension of hating himself. Dave needed help. He needed to be educated.

Sebastian, an out and proud gay teenager who had no problem revealing his sexual orientation to anyone, simply hated Kurt – period.

Kurt sighs. How did he let himself get stuck in this situation? He didn’t have to agree to their terms. He could just as easily have written them a check for $25 and called it a day. Why did he let himself get shoehorned into an evening with Sebastian? If Sebastian was the reformed guy he claimed to be, he would have accepted no for an answer.

Wouldn’t he have?

As the clock ticks closer to eight, Kurt clutches on to the only hope he has - Sebastian could decide not to show up. That’s an option. It could happen. Kurt was never Sebastian’s type anyway. Sebastian could have agreed to this to save face in front of a friend who put him on the spot, with no intention of ever following thru. It’s reasonable. It makes sense. And Kurt wouldn’t hold it against him.

Shave-and-a-haircut tapping on the door at the stroke of eight blows that hope out of the water.

Opening the door and seeing Sebastian standing in the hallway, carrying a backpack over one shoulder, finishes it off, driving it straight into its grave.

Kurt’s stomach drops to his knees.

“Hey,” Sebastian says.

“Hey.”

“Well. I’m here.” Sebastian rolls to the balls of his feet. He looks nervous. It’s kind of … dare Kurt think … _cute_?

“Yes, you are,” Kurt confirms, but he doesn’t move aside to let Sebastian in. Kurt’s not convinced that Sebastian means to stay. He never struck Kurt as a guy who’d keep his word in a situation that doesn’t directly benefit him.

Sebastian would get nothing out of coming here tonight, unless …

Sebastian doesn’t expect Kurt to sleep with him, does he?

 _Shit_! Kurt hadn’t considered that. But if there is any truth to those Dalton rumors about Sebastian and his infamous one-night stands, it would fit his m.o. Kurt normally doesn’t give weight to rumors. He’s surrounded by too many. But if interning at _Vogue_ has taught him anything about gossip, it’s that if different people repeatedly spread the same rumor, there might be a shred of truth to it.

And Kurt has heard the rumors about Sebastian’s sex-tracurricular activities from a variety of sources.

Including Blaine.

“So …” Sebastian says, waiting patiently for Kurt to do something – either let him in or slam the door in his face.

Kurt does neither.

He looks perpetually confused.

“So … what do we do now?” Kurt asks. He assumes Sebastian will say something like, “Nothing. I showed up. I fulfilled my end of this bargain. It’s been swell, but I have to jet.”

But he doesn’t.

“We agreed that you’re mine for one night.” Sebastian pulls his backpack off his shoulder and unzips it. “So I get to choose.” He opens his bag - a bag Kurt can only imagine is filled with ropes, handcuffs, and painful sex toys.

(Yup, Kurt’s imagination might be running away from him a tad.)

When Sebastian pulls out a fistful of jewel cases, Kurt rolls his eyes. _Porn. Great._ Couldn’t they stream that off the Internet and save Sebastian the trouble of lugging it around? Or are these vintage?

“Okay. Movie marathon time. I brought over _Star Wars_ , _Winter Soldier_ , _The Matrix_ , and _District 9_.”

Kurt’s eyebrows shoot up at Sebastian’s movie selection. “Come again?”

“You heard me,” Sebastian says, weeding his way into the room. “Though I kind of have you pegged for a Winter Soldier man. I figure the whole Sebastian Stan smoky eye thing really gets you going.” Sebastian drops his backpack on the floor by Quinn’s futon and starts making himself at home, toeing off his sneakers and tossing off his jacket. The top of Sebastian’s backpack unzipped and hanging open, Kurt tries to sneak a peek at what else might be in there, what instruments of torture. The movies are a prelude, right? A vanilla, false sense of security before the salvo begins? “So, should I make some popcorn or something?”

“Oh, uh … I don’t think Quinn has any …”

“No probs. I brought some.” Sebastian swings back around and grabs his bag, making Kurt, who’d been concentrating on it a little too hard, jump. “I’ll pop it in the microwave, _no pun intended_ , put on a movie … oh, and we can play cards.”

“Cards!?”

“Yeah. I brought an UNO deck. You _do_ know how to play UNO, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do, but …”

“Great!” Sebastian tosses the deck Kurt’s way, chuckling when Kurt flails to catch it. “Let the fun begin!”

Four hours they spend watching movies and playing UNO, but they don’t really carry on a conversation. Sebastian tries. He talks about what he’s been doing since high school, his major in college, the last vacation he took, the last movie he saw. And Kurt listens, but he doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t offer any insights into his own life thus far. Kurt is sort of stunned by this, by him. He’ll acknowledge that, whatever Sebastian believes is going on between them, he’s making a concerted effort to be friendly, but Kurt can’t seem to reciprocate. Then Sebastian says something about Blaine, and Kurt tunes him out the way he usually does at the mention of that name.

Kurt can’t seem to get comfortable with the idea of Sebastian being there, of Sebastian being nice to him, of him and Sebastian having anything in common, which they do. Ironically, they do. Kurt can’t help seeing this whole evening as the precursor to something else, some insidious plot.

He’s waiting for the anvil to drop, because there has to be one hanging overhead somewhere where Sebastian is involved.

The credits roll on _District 9_ and Sebastian yawns. He rolls his shoulders back, which realigns his spine (evidenced by the loud cracking in his back). He glances down at his phone sitting by his right knee and honestly looks surprised. “Wow! It’s after midnight. Who would have guessed, huh?”

“Yeah,” Kurt agrees, nodding like a bobble head on the dash of a moving car. “I thought Quinn would be back by now, but …”

Sebastian mirrors Kurt’s space-filler nod, but when Kurt doesn’t complete his sentence, Sebastian sighs. It’s a sigh that sounds like Sebastian expected something more, but he’s come to the realization that he’s not going to get it. “Well, it’s getting late. I think I’m going to head out, if that’s alright by you.”

Kurt watches Sebastian collect his stuff, bewildered at how this night is ending. Kurt should feel relieved, right? He expected the worst case scenario, but he has to admit, he got one of the best.

Why does he feel so disappointed?

Maybe because the great Sebastian Smythe didn’t live up to Kurt’s adolescent expectations. He didn’t show up spewing vitriol, but he didn’t ply Kurt with lame pick-up lines or try to force himself on him, either.

What did Kurt want from Sebastian anyway?

“Wait …” Kurt follows Sebastian off the futon. “That’s … that’s it?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian says, buttoning up his jacket. “Why? What were you expecting?”

“I … I don’t know,” Kurt lies, because he sure as hell had a few ideas, some that almost had him searching Quinn’s medicine cabinet, praying he’d stumble across a prescription bottle of valium. Right before Sebastian showed up, some of those ideas involved whips, handcuffs, and cell phone videos Kurt would be paying his entire life not to have uploaded to the Internet. “I didn’t expect you to be a tremendous nerd, for one.”

“Hey” - Sebastian throws his backpack strap over his shoulder - “I’m a _geek_. Not a _nerd_. Learn your terminology before you try to insult me. Though ...” He waves a hand in front of his nose “… that cologne you seem to spray on everything did that first. And you said _I_ bathe in CW.”

“Hold---hold on a second. I don’t …”

Sebastian stops at the door with Kurt trailing behind. “Don’t what? Don’t want me to leave. Awww, shucks. I didn’t think you’d be such a softie.”

“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that I thought …”

“Yeah?” Sebastian raises an eyebrow. A hesitation passes between them. It starts with the expression on Sebastian’s face that stops Kurt’s confession in its tracks, because the way Sebastian is looking at Kurt leads Kurt to believe that the next sentence out of his mouth may hurt Sebastian’s feelings.

“Well, I thought … you were … going to make me have sex with you or something.”

From the way Sebastian’s smile dips, then slides up again, but only in one corner, Kurt knows he was right about hurting Sebastian’s feelings. That smirk is Sebastian’s first line of defense. He’s constructing a wall, and like a master brick layer, he’s had plenty of practice. “You thought I was going to come to your room and perpetrate sexual assault?”

“No,” Kurt answers quickly, horrified with himself for how terrible it sounds because, yes, that’s kind of exactly what he pictured. “I just thought … well, you kind of have a reputation.”

Sebastian’s smirk carves itself deeper into his face. “How do you know my reputation? You didn’t even know I was here.”

“But, that whole thing in high school with Blaine, constantly trying to tear us apart and stuff ...”

“That was _high school_ , and I was kind of an insecure jerk. I’m big enough to admit that. I thought that maybe, of all people, you’d get that.” Sebastian looks down at his shoes, his eyes burning holes in the toes. “Do you think I don’t know how much of a bastard I was to you in high school?” Sebastian runs a hand through his hair, sorting through his thoughts for a better apology. “Well, I do. And I had no idea how in the world I’d be able to make that up to you. I thought you’d never really forgive me.”

“I _did_ forgive you,” Kurt says, but it sounds about as believable as the time he tried to convince everybody that he was straight.

“No, you didn’t,” Sebastian says. “Blaine did, but not you. But after I found out that you forgave that hulking behemoth Dave after everything _he_ did to you, I thought you’d be able to forgive me, too. That maybe we could start at the beginning and become friends, leave the drama of high school behind.” Sebastian sighs. He shakes his head. “You have _no idea_ how hard I’ve tried to get away from Dalton, those rumors, and … and everything.”

Kurt feels like dirt because he _does_ know. He knows exactly what it’s like to try and leave something behind you just to have it show up at your front door when you least expect it. Try as he might to leave Lima and McKinley to the past, they always seem to find a way to drop in on him and scramble his life around, usually in the form of a person that he’d thought he’d never see again.

Santana.

Sue Sylvester.

And now Sebastian.

But where the first two he could do without, he’s finding that he should have given consideration to the third, especially compared to how Sebastian re-entered his life as opposed to the others.

Santana and Sue barged into Kurt’s world, declared residency, then went back to business as usual as if they had never left Ohio.

Sebastian, on the other hand, approached Kurt with a smile on his face and a compliment in his mouth. And yet Kurt accommodated the other two and remained suspicious of Sebastian. Why? Why did he do that?

“I’m sorry,” Kurt says. “I---I shouldn’t have assumed.”

“No,” Sebastian says, raising his eyes to look at Kurt, his face solemn, “you shouldn’t have. Because then you might have enjoyed yourself tonight. But I guess that’s why you were afraid of me, huh?”

“I wasn’t really afraid of you,” Kurt admits. “I just wrote that because I couldn’t think of anything else to write. And I never thought they’d be able to find you.”

“Fair enough. But let me ask you an honest question …”

Kurt braces himself for Sebastian to ask him if he wants to be his friend. Does he want to start at the beginning and get to know him? Because after that confession, his answer is yes. Absolutely.

But, in what’s becoming true Sebastian form, throwing Kurt a curve ball when he’s expecting a fast ball, that’s not what Sebastian asks.

“Do you _want_ to have sex with me?”

Kurt sucks in a breath, but he doesn’t answer right away. Yes? No? How does he answer that question? Has he ever thought about it? Yes, he has. Would he ever act on it? Even for a one-night stand? Possibly. He’s not sure. He never thought he’d ever be confronted with the option, so he never thought it through well enough to come up with an answer.

The one he _does_ come up with sucks ass, and not in a good way.

“I guess. I mean, I was kind of curious what all the fuss was about.”

Sebastian nods, tight jaw tightening more, and inside Kurt’s chest, his lungs freeze, trying its best to strangle him before he says anything else offensive. Because not until that moment does it dawn on Kurt that Sebastian’s question wasn’t meant as an offer. It was a _test_ , Sebastian trying to find out which camp Kurt belongs in – the one with people who want to be his friends, or the one where people get with him on reputation alone.

And, thoughtlessly, Kurt failed that test.

“Ask a stupid question,” Sebastian mutters, opening the front door. “Goodbye, Kurt. I’ll see you around.” Sebastian walks through the door and shuts it behind him, leaving Kurt at a loss for words, especially since Kurt doesn’t go to Yale.

So no, Sebastian won’t be seeing him around.


End file.
